


keeping up with the Targaryens unleashed

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Aegon I Targaryen's A+ Conquering, Aegon's Conquest, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Dragons, Erotica, Everyone Is a Targaryen, F/F, F/M, Folklore, Gen, House Targaryen, I Blame Tumblr, Implied/Referenced Incest, Inspired By Tumblr, LEGENDARY CORYANNE WYLDE IS HERE TO BE WESTEROS'S HENRY MILLER, LITERALLY EVERYONE EXCEPT THE CANON ASOIAF TARGARYENS, M/M, Moresomes, Multi, Septas, more tags to be added as we proceed, targ children everywheeeere, this is an aenys targaryen appreciation fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:54:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21737164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: in whichallof Westeros and Essos have Targaryen ancestry because Aegon the Conqueror certainly didn't stay idle when he conquered it.[chapter summaries to be added as I post]prologue: in which scholars in Modern Westeros make a discovery that might change their knowledge of their own history forever.chapter one: in which Aegon conquers all the seven realms and beyond, his wives have different approaches on the subject, a lot of children are born and a lot of dragons are hatched.interlude: in which Gyldayn and the others realize what the statue's discovery means.chapter two: in which the former Lady Coryanne Wylde, now Septa Coryanne, lays foundation for the most thriving erotic literary market in the continent and leaves A Legacy.
Relationships: (as soon as I write chapters for them), Aegon I Targaryen/Everyone, Aegon I Targaryen/Rhaenys Targaryen (Sister of Aegon I)/Visenya Targaryen (Sister of Aegon I), Aegon Targaryen/all of Westeros, Coryanne Wylde/Various, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Torrhen Stark/Aegon I Targaryen
Comments: 59
Kudos: 112





	1. prologue: modern westeros, 1000 AC

**Author's Note:**

> *takes deep breath* okay so, this thing started on my tumblr a few weeks ago when I replied to an ask concerning that infamous 'Tyrion is a Targ' theory, in which I replied that if he was then at this point it'd look like a telenovela where everyone is actually a targ and it would look ridiculous... except that then I got asked 'but what if everyone WAS a targ except for the actual canon targaryens' and I ended up taking headcanons for it and... it... spiraled... into _something_ , then I got over myself and finally read _Fire and Blood_ to see if I had a good background and it turned out half of the crack we came up with was halfway canon anyway and so it's happening... being sorta f&b halfway canon compliant lmao. I'm posting the prologue now and I'll hope to have a couple chapters out per week or something while I work on the Christmas exchange fics I have, but like... if you want to see what's up with the madness you can check my everyone is a targ telenovela tag on tumblr but believe me the crack is going to just go up with each single round. Wait until we get to Rebellion era and everyone has their own dragon. ;)
> 
> That said: I don't want to put ships and characters in the tags until they actually show up because I'll try to like... focus on separate things in separate chapters and I don't want people to get bothered by this thing showing up in the tags when it's not relevant, but just so you know in advance: other than Aegon/everyone and most canon f&b ships being kept canon, the rebellion-era/present times endgames are Jaime/Brienne, Sandor/Sansa, Theon/Robb(/Asha), Ned/Cat, Arya/Gendry, Jon/Ygritte/Tormund plus most people involved in the Rebellion *except* Rhaegar being basically a hippie commune in KL, Stannis/Davos/Marya and a few other surprise things that I'm not spoiling because why would I spoil such crack, so like... I'll probably have single chapters for single ships and I'll try to make them separate enough to be read without going through ships you don't care for, but anyway you know what you should expect.
> 
> And as this was a collective effort, I would love to thank everyone on tumblr who chimed in to help out planning this monster and I hope the crack is worth it. (Also, I put 15 chapters preventively but the number could go up or down XD I think up but.. eeh, we'll see.) The title was very generously suggested by a lovely anon same as the prologue scenario. See you next time - hopefully soon! - with Aegon's adventures in having... a _lot_ of children. ;)

“This is certainly a sight to behold,” Archmaester Gyldayn says as he looks at the frankly astonishing spectacle in front of him.

Never in the history of Westeros have so many dragons conveyed all in the same place. Their Citadel-founded archeological expedition is currently stationed outside the ruins of Vaes Dothrak, smack in the middle of Essos, and while the weather is hot and the sun is burning upon everyone’s backs and faces, there is not a single person in the expedition from the Citadel that is complaining. Then again, no serious scientist or scholar would, not when the entire valley is filled to the brink with dragons — Gyldayn is fairly sure that _each single dragon_ in Westeros and Essos has flown here.

Why? How? Do they all share a hive mind? Maybe telepathically? And what’s the reason why they’re all here, digging through the sand and reshaping dunes with their taloned fingers?

The sun shines over the scales of all those majestic beasts and for a momen Gyldayn feels blinded — there’s gold and silver and red and pink and azure and orange and black and green all blending under the bright sunlight as wings flap and dragons roar.

“Surely it is,” his colleague Pycelle answers. “I am quite perplexed, though. Today isn’t some anniversary or anything of the kind, is it?”

“No,” Gyldayn agrees. “No, it isn’t. But wait — I think — don’t you see? They’re all moving towards _that_ point.”

Pycelle squints. “You’re right,” he nods. “You’re _damn_ right. People, we need to get closer!”

The other twenty people with them, a even mix of known scholars and young students, immediately jump on their own two dragons they brought from the Citadel — they named them Jaehaerys and Aenys for two kings who had most funded Oldtown back in the days after Aegon’s conquest, and they’ll let about any of the students ride them, but after all that goes unsaid, when most people in Westeros have Targaryen ancestry.

Admittedly, finding out _why_ is something Gyldayn has been wanting to study for a long, long time — _how_ are most people in the continent and the next one related to Targaryens regardless of census, status, ethnicity or birth? It’s a question that has never quite been answered until now and maybe he is hoping that they will find the answer now — and wouldn't it be amazing to find out _now_ , a thousand round years from the Conquest? He has a feeling what whatever _this_ is, it might be tied to it somehow, and so it’s with uttermost excitement that as Aenys flies slowly towards the point every other dragon is crawling, batting his majestic blue wings with pale azure scales, he sees that there is _something_ they’re uncovering.

Aenys flies in a circle along with Jaehaerys (who, instead, has green and black scales) as the other dragons dig and dig and dig —

Until they finally realize it’s a statue, and not long later, when the face is uncovered, there is no doubt — it _has_ to be Aegon the Conqueror.

A statue of Aegon… in _Vaes Dothrak_? Surely, records state that it was the last known place Aegon flew towards when attempting to conquer the kingdom, along with both his sisters, so they must have arrived here, but Gyldayn really wouldn’t have thought things had progressed so much that they would actually find a _statue_ there. After all, Aegon had hardly conquered the Dothraki now, had he?

As if understanding that their work here is done, all of the dragons suddenly stop digging, look up to the sky and fly away, bound in each direction, until only Aenys and Jaehaerys remain and land gently near the statue. As the students unload their gear, Gyldayn tells them to be careful — this could be and invaluable finding, and it might change their knowledge of the history of Westeros as they know it. Actually, maybe they should ask for reinforcements — Gyldayn thinks about it for a moment, then tells his TA Sarella Martell to take Aenys, the faster of their dragons, go back to the Citadel, alert everyone and come back with more diggers. After all, it’s merely a six-hour ride on the back of that one dragon, so it shouldn’t be too long. Sarella immediately agrees and does as asked.

Gyldayn smiles to himself.

He cannot _wait_ to uncover the statue for good.

—

They dig, and _dig_. Eventually, it takes them three days to uncover the entire statue, which is a marvel — made of pale marble that at some point was obviously painted, is half as tall as the tower of the Red Keep and there is no way they can actually lift it up, not with the little equipment they have, but still, it doesn’t mean they can’t notice its exquisite facture and that it’s _really_ a fitting likeness to Aegon the Conqueror.

And they all notice that there is one inscription at the bottom of the statue… of course, in a language Gyldayn is ashamed to not know. They all confer as the writing _does_ indeed look like Dothraki, but it’s not _modern_ Dothraki or the Dothraki spoken in year 300 from Aegon’s Landing, which is the most common variant to be found in old text, until Sarella deduces that it has to be some ancient dialect spoken back in Aegon’s times, and surely her friend Sam Tarly, who is specializing in ancient languages, might have a solution along with his teachers and his fellow PhDs. They all proceed to take pictures and email them to the Citadel, and Sam confirms that it’s indeed an ancient variation of the language, and they will at once set down to decipher it. Satisfied, Gyldayn leaves them to it and they proceed on taking note of the rest of the surroundings. They have no news for a few hours, until Sam texts Sarella asking for a conference call. As they, of course, have computers with them and they have put down tents next to the statue and all, it’s not hard to set it up, and a few minutes later Sam, Archmaester Luwin (the head of the language faculty in the Citadel), Maester Cressen (Sam’s direct supervisor) and Shireen Baratheon (Cressen’s other PhD) show up on screen.

They all look… more perplexed than Gyldayn had thought they would be.

“So?” He asks. “What’s the verdict?”

“Uhm,” Sam clears his throat. “It’s… you see, we did cross-check a lot of times.”

“A _hundred_ times,” Shireen remarks.

“And the resulting translation did seem quite strange,” Luwin says, “but I couldn’t find any fault with it, so I showed Cressen who agreed, and we both emailed Maester Aemon Targaryen, who is still the greatest authority on the subject, and he also was perplexed even if he said that it did line up with some old family legend or _something_ , but he would ask Vyman and Colemon just to be extra sure, and they all confirmed it even if none of us actually knew how to take it —”

“Come on,” Pycelle interrupts, “be done with that already. So it’s a strange inscription. _All_ of us have seen strange inscriptions. What is so weird about it? Just have it out.”

All four of them look at each other. Sam glances at Shireen who glances at Cressen, and then they all hand a stack of papers at Luwin, who takes a deep breath.

“All right,” he says. “All right. Uh, so, as stated… we checked and checked and _checked_ , and… we came to the conclusion that it means… uhm. First, it says, _this is the last message of Aegon the Conqueror_ , right on top of the base. And then. Uhm.”

“And _then_?” Gyldayn presses.

Luwin clears his throat again. He stares at all of them through the camera. And then he says it, and —

In a moment, Gyldayn will realize that he _was_ right. This discovery will indeed turn out to be a fundamental clue in finding out the reasons of Targaryen ancestry scattered all across two continents and possibly _more_ , if they manage to uncover the mystery of Valyria.

But as Luwin says it, Gyldayn can’t quite believe his own ears and understands _why_ they had their results checked by every other authority under the sun.

“It reads,” Luwin says, “ _I have done all of your mothers_.”

TBC


	2. Aegon's conquest, 4-37 AC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Aegon _conquers_ all the seven realms and beyond, his wives have different approaches on the subject, a lot of children are born and a lot of dragons are hatched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALL RIGHT GUYS now here we're starting to be serious about this. ... If you can call this thing SERIOUS. anyway: have the adventures of Aegon the Conqueror as he... conquers. Spoilers: this will obviously mean that I changed f&b canon because what the hell I can do that, so have fun with this crack. Also: Aenys is my favorite targ that ever targ-ed which means you won't find him having a shitty life in this fic because I said so. ;) Many thanks to the anons and not-anons who provided headcanons and help for this specific part of course <3333 and don't worry we're getting to the rebellion and asoiaf-series people around chapter five or six at latest ;) Heed the new tags for all your needs. XD

The evening of his coronation, Aegon Targaryen does _not_ go to either of his wives.

People might have expected him to; after all, now that he’s king of six kingdoms on seven, and he surely will soon conquer Dorne, he just has to find the right strategy, he surely will need an heir. That’s indeed true, Aegon knows, _but_ —

But, he muses as he stares out of the window, looking at the low lights of the city in front of him and thinking that he really should start planning when it comes to building a castle worthy of a true king and not this poor excuse of hastily built fort with a throne inside it, there has to be a way to make sure his progeny _will_ rule over Westeros and that his people won’t have reasons to want other kings. Aegon doesn’t just want to _conquer_ Westeros, which he has technically already done.

Aegon wants a _legacy_ , and a lasting one. He wants the realm to remember him for good and not just for bad, and he wants it to survive him for centuries, maybe millennia. And certainly a coronation won’t be enough, never mind that if he wants to conquer the Dornish, he has a feeling _only_ the dragons won’t suffice. He’s seen and heard enough of them to know that they will not bow or bend or break for him nor for his sisters, and he thinks he needs a better plan.

Suddenly, he wonders if —

Well.

What better way, he thinks, to rule over a country if your legacy _becomes_ it?

He smiles to himself, slightly. He knows Visenya won’t like his plan, while Rhaenys might be in favor, which means that Visenya _will_ eventually agree to it. After all, he’s had ample proof of his charm when it came to _anyone_ while he treated with the former King in the North — at some point Torrhen Stark _had_ sneaked into his tent at night under the pretense of being an emissary to talk to him face to face, and while of course no one but them knows, Aegon _had_ knelt first in between the two of them, to seal that treatise. Stark certainly hadn’t complained when he had returned the favor the first time.

Then, of course, Stark knelt _later,_ for all to see, but that’s not the point.

Aegon _knows_ that women certainly do look at his sisters with envy, _every_ woman he sees around himself does — in court, in between the smallfolk, in between his bannermen’s wives.

Suddenly, he has a vision in which _all_ of Westeros is populated by his own children, and fine, that’s not exactly what was the praxis in Valyria when it came to keeping the blood pure… but Aegon doesn’t see the merit in giving that angle credit. Obviously it matters when it comes to your _heirs_ because they should be dragon riders same as him and his sister, but if the point is making sure _all_ of Westeros is somehow his blood… certainly _that_ wouldn’t matter. Who cares for purity in this case? After all, if _all_ of the continent is somehow related to you, it would kill any possible discussion concerning succession in the first place because who would even start to try and figure it out? Also, there have been a _lot_ of new eggs hatched at Dragonstone.

Surely they can’t keep them all _there_ now, can they?

Aegon smiles to himself.

He thinks he will take a long, _long_ journey around Westeros.

A king has to know his subjects, after all… the moment he has a legitimate heir, of course.

—

Visenya, of course, _doesn’t_ really agree with his plan.

Rhaenys says it’s an excellent idea, so as it’s two of them against one, Visenya _does_ have to relent, even if she keeps on saying she doesn’t like it.

A few months later, Rhaenys comes to him with news — she’s with child.

Aegon is overjoyed at the news. Visenya a little less, or so it seems, and she tries to convince him not to go ahead with his plan, surely _he_ has no need of doing such a thing —

“Oh, but I do,” Aegon says. “I do. Imagine this entire continent being the blood of the dragon. Just _imagine it_.”

Visenya doesn’t seem to share his vision regardless, but it’s not like he needs any further authorization.

He waits until Rhaenys’s baby is born — when it’s time, she has a boy with their purple eyes and golden hair. They name him Aenys and take care to show him around the capital as soon as possible…

And then, that evening, Aegon slips out of the castle. He walks until he finds the street with the smiths’ shops, thinking that the moment he’s secured Dorne and the rest of the kingdom for good he _will_ put as a main priority to put cobblers on these roads because all the damned mud is sticking to his shoes. He glances at the houses — all the lights are turned down except for one. He smiles to himself.

Then he knocks on the door.

When it opens, he finds himself in front of a young man with dark hair, dark eyes and strong arms and a wife with brown hair and eyes, both of them in their nightwear, because of course it’s late —

“Your Grace?” The man asks, sounding like he’s about to faint.

Aegon smiles back.

“Yes,” he says, “but no need to make noise about it. I decided that it’s time I actually get to know my subjects… on a personal level, for the next few months. Could I have a few words with you?”

“But of course,” the man says, letting him in. “Excuse us for —”

“No need to excuse yourself,” Aegon says, “I wasn’t expecting to be received if I showed up in the middle of the night without sending word now. Thank you.”

Of course he’s _not_ going to do anything if neither of them agrees to it, and he _should_ know what his subjects want anyway, but it turns out that the moment the both of them stop _Your Grace-ing_ him left and right they do speak about how things could possibly be improved for the smiths in the city and for their families, and the little mead they offer him is actually quite good, and by the time they all are a few cups into it, Aegon _does_ ask if he might join them, not that he will if the husband doesn’t want to.

“Your Grace,” the man stammers, “you mean — with my wife?”

“No,” Aegon shakes his head. “I mean _also_ with you.”

The young smith is indeed staring at Aegon’s mouth as Aegon speaks. He glances at his wife. “Could we discuss —”

“Of course,” Aegon says, “take your time.”

They do discuss, for a short time. Then they both say yes.

Aegon stands up from his chair with a smile on his lips.

—

In the following months, he discreetly visits that street again, then various others in the city. He never insists if they say no, of course, but more people than not agree to it, and none of them is not satisfied after he shares their bed.

Visenya isn’t too pleased when, four years after Aenys’s birth, she finally gives Aegon a son for herself, Maegor… and at the same time half of the smallfolk in King’s Landing have children, all around the same time, with either pale blonde hair or violet eyes.

Rhaenys, instead, after having seen that trying to conquer Dorne was not a feasible plan and that the Dornish would never let themselves be conquered if not after a long fight that they would rather avoid, so she had written him that instead she would try to _negotiate for peaceful terms_.

Aegon had smiled to himself and told her that _she_ also had the blood of the dragon, so if she wanted to send for her own child or if she planned to be in Dorne for a while, he wouldn’t say no.

Rhaenys wrote back that she might come back _in a few months_ , spend time with her child, then go back to Dorne.

For a few years.

Just in case there was the need for _more negotiation_.

Aegon wrote her back that she had his blessing. After all… he might not be able to conquer Dorne with weapons, but if Rhaenys can convince them to bend in other ways then he also could visit, and the Dornish are admittedly famous for not refusing a good time behind closed doors when they can have it.

Maybe it _is_ an exceedingly good idea.

—

For the first few years after the birth of his first child, of course Aegon sticks to the Crownlands. He can’t be too far from King’s Landing. He’s not too worried about the Stormlands — the Baratheons are _his_ blood, too, and when he told Orys of his plans, he said it was an exceedingly good idea.

“I don’t want anyone to be forced, remember that,” Aegon had told him.

“Who do you take me for?” His half-brother had japed back. “Of course I _wouldn’t_.”

Still, he should definitely try for the Riverlands, the North and the Vale of Arryn, _very_ soon.

—

When Rhaenys is back, he does confer with her without Visenya knowing — he _did_ ask her when it came to her own son and she refused at once.

Rhaenys, instead, smiles very, very brightly.

“Of course,” she tells him, “that sounds like a very good idea and my son _does_ feel probably a bit too lonesome.”

—

In the following years, until his coronation, Prince Aenys is seen out in the city a _lot_. After he bonds with his dragon, he’s known to bring flying a lot of children his age.

Most of them have either purple or violet eyes or silver-gold hair — not quite both, most times, but no one really cares for _that_. After all, children care little for such things.

The prince is also known for saying in court that he feels exceedingly lucky, having so many brothers and sisters, and he never feels lesser for his younger brother either ignoring his existence or his aunt not caring for him that much.

—

Aegon flies to the Riverlands first, landing Balerion just outside Riverrun.

Lord Tully is only too happy to introduce him to all of his daughters, who, after conferring with the king, all three of them, are only too happy to ask him if he would like to join them for _swimming lessons_.

Their father hears them, but understanding the implications, he says nothing and starts counting the lords he knows who would not mind fathering the King’s children.

Aegon I Targaryen leaves Riverrun after having learned to swim _very_ proficiently (he _knew_ , of course, just not as well as anyone who grows up on the Trident) and leaving all of Lord Tully’s daughters smitten.

He also leaves five dragon eggs in Riverrun, to _thank them for their hospitality_.

Lord Tully is fairly happy with it — after all, _dragon eggs_ should shut up anyone who has any concerns with the status of his wives, regardless.

—

Tarth might be a smaller island, but Aegon was always fond of it — it has some lovely sights and its sapphire blue waters are a sight to behold.

The only unmarried daughter of the Evenstar is bold enough to ask him if he would want swimming lessons.

“I learned in Riverrun,” Aegon smiles, “but I should be glad to show my lady my… proficiency, if she would like to.”

The lady isn’t _beautiful_ , not per se, her face is unremarkable, which is most likely why she’s unmarried… but she’s strong and tall and she has a pair of lovely blue eyes with pale blonde hair, and she sounds only too happy to tell His Grace that she would love that.

Aegon leaves three dragon eggs on Tarth — he had planned on just one, but the girl had been a delight to spend time with, and if she has strong children, _well_ , they’ll need more than one dragon in the future.

Her father says nothing, but doesn’t oppose that at all.

The girl becomes the next Evenstar.

Her son becomes the _next_.

He has her pale blonde hair and blue eyes.

People _do_ say that they do seem to have purple specks, in the right light.

He also greatly enjoys riding _all three_ of the dragons roaming the island, but that comes as no surprise for anyone.

—

Aegon makes a detour to the Stormlands to leave another clutch of eggs at Storm’s End. Orys is, of course, _exceedingly_ glad of that. He also tells Aegon where to go, if he wants to make sure to have even more dragon seeds throughout the Stormlands.

Aegon follows the suggestion.

For the next three months, people speak of a stranger with pale blonde hair and purple eyes knocking on married couples’s doors, sharing their bread and their bed, with _both_ husband and wife.

A year later, quite a lot of children in the Stormlands are born with purple eyes.

—

He takes a few moons’ trip to the Iron Islands, too.

Admittedly, he doesn’t like Pyke all that much, bur Harlaw is a fine island, and the family ruling it is related to the rest of the most important Ironborn families, so he supposes that given those people’s customs, he doesn’t have to roam all of those islands to find willing girls.

He finds a lot of them on Harlaw.

He finds a lot of them anywhere except for Pyke.

He doesn’t leave dragon eggs behind because only an idiot would leave a dragon in the hands of _the Ironborn_ , but he supposes that can always be rectified in a few years by his son or his son’s successors.

—

Aegon had never really considered going beyond the Wall.

But the stories he hears when visiting Torrhen Stark in the North convince him to do so. He takes Balerion and flies away, it’s not as if he or his dragon could be hurt by _wildlings_ , certainly.

Beyond the Wall, he finds out that wildlings care not for his titles, but care a _lot_ for dragons and that wildling women certainly don’t look at him as if they would hate to have him in their bed.

Also, he finds out about the wildling custom of _stealing_ women, in which he partakes easily as he has a _dragon_ , but fact is, none of the women he tries to steal seems to not _want_ him to. For that matter, he finds himself threatened at spearpoint more than once to try and steal this or that other woman or their sister or their friend or their cousin.

Aegon is only too happy to get along with their wishes, and maybe he leaves behind _ten_ dragon eggs, but as he’s been with the wildlings for at least six moons, he’s pretty sure they’re going to need them.

They’re going to need _all_ of them. Also, life beyond the Wall is cruel and _cold_. Certainly they can use a lot of fire.

—

Back in the North, he goes back to his usual quieter business of knocking on doors and ask for bread and mead.

Later, a _long_ time later, both wildlings and the Northerners will tell stories of this singer named Bael who would visit houses and was definitely related to the Targaryens because after all there _had_ to be a reason why the North was crawling with silver or golden haired children with purple or violet eyes.

But after Aegon goes back to Winterfell for a last goodbye, Torrhen sighs and tells him that he’s very, very worried about his line.

Because his only remaining son only has one daughter and no one has wanted to marry her because he _knelt,_ and he doesn’t wish his line to die with her because he —

“Say no more,” Aegon smiles. “Where shall I find this lady and mayhaps talk to her?”

Torrhen, who _had_ pretty much guessed why Aegon had been traveling the kingdoms like _that_ , tells him.

Then he tells Brandon, but his son certainly has no issue with his progeny being half Targaryen, if his daughter will have the king.

The girl is indeed exceedingly happy to have him.

The next Brandon Stark is born with violet eyes and dark hair.

Aegon leaves three dragon eggs in Winterfell.

—

When he comes back to King’s Landing to rest and so that he can take a further trip to Dragonstone for more eggs to bring with, Aegon is delighted to see that his heir doesn’t stay locked up inside the castle but is very, _very_ loved by the people because he spends so much time talking to them and is such a sweet boy and treats the smallfolk’s children like his own brothers.

“This is madness,” Visenya tells him. “Anyone might challenge his claim!”

“How many of them,” Aegon smiles, “a hundred? When they all _love_ him? Or maybe they will love him more for it. Honestly, you should either make sure _your_ son goes with him once in a while or take a trip to the Free Cities. It might enlighten you.”

“The _Free Cities_ ,” Visenya snorts. “Fine. Whatever you say. I suppose I could take a vacation. And bring my son with.”

“He could go out with his brother,” Aegon tries to suggest.

“Certainly _not_ ,” Visenya answers, and Aegon leaves it at that.

He has to plan his next journey.

—

In Casterly Rock, the Lannisters are only too happy to receive him and to tell him he has free reign of Lannisport.

Aegon leaves them five eggs when he leaves.

In the following two years, a fair amount of pairs of twins are born in the Rock and outside it and in Lannisport.

All with, of course, silver-golden hair and purple eyes.

—

He considers stopping after he spends six months in the Vale, leaves them his last three eggs and has to go back to Dragonstone to get more, but there’s the Reach, after all. And Oldtown, even if admittedly a _lot_ of the women in Oldtown are septas… except, when did he really care, and most of all, since when most of the septas in Oldtown actually _wanted_ that life?

Aegon takes another batch of eggs from Dragonstone, it’s overflowing with them anyway, and donning his clothing that would pass in history as Bael’s garb, he quietly visits most of it.

Then he goes to Oldtown, where the Grand Maester cannot certainly refuse the king hospitality.

Aegon is very, very discreet as he talks to most septas in the Citadel…

And the Grand Maester has to go great, _great_ lengths to conceive the results of such a trip, but this will be a matter discussed more thoroughly very soon, as Aegon’s adventures in Oldtown sired something… _other_ than children, and that deserves more space as it spans a lot more years than just Aegon’s reign.

Suffices to say, Aegon did indeed contribute to founding a literary genre for Westeros, but the Great Maester certainly wasn’t pleased to find out what kind of books did his septas write in their spare time.

—

Aegon takes the journey to Vaes Dothrak only to have a friendly talk with the Dothraki — he’s honestly not interested in _conquering_ them, and he’s plenty happy with Westeros, but with Visenya roaming the free cities and, from what he hears, _maybe_ having grown a bit less tough after spending a lot of time in Lys, he certainly isn’t interested in visiting _them_ , and he’s sure that the Khal might be interested in striking some commercial accord, at least.

Turns out, the Khal is interested.

Turns out, his khaleesi is also interested… and not just in commercial accords.

Aegon stays in Vaes Dothrak for nine months.

When he leaves, the Dothraki are so happy with the results of his visit that they build him a statue.

Aegon absolutely agrees with it… and tells them what to write on it, if they should choose to do so.

They’re very glad to do it.

Aegon leaves five dragon eggs behind.

—

When Aegon I Targaryen dies, years later, surrounded by the grandsons Aenys and his wife Alyssa gave him, he does it with a smile on his lips, knowing that the kingdom is swarming with _his_ dragons, that all sorts of people can ride them, that his heir is loved by all the realms and not just in King’s Landing (every time they both went for progresses in the realm where Aegon would maybe disappear for a while, he _did_ treat as old friends all the dragonseeds that would come up to him to show off their dragons or their purple eyes) and he knows he’ll make a good king. Visenya has actually _stayed_ in the Free Cities along with Maegor, while Rhaenys has kept good relations with Dorne until now, and even if it’s unconquered, what does it matter when some of _her_ bastard children are living in Sunspear’s gardens and the one time he visited he hadn’t left dragon eggs just out of precaution but he certainly had a _lot_ of interesting times as he shared beds with many, many Dornish people and learned a lot from them, on top of that?

It matters none.

He’s leaving a kingdom that’s _his blood_ , and he’s quite sure that even if his heirs don’t follow in his footsteps, it’s going to be plenty enough for centuries to come.

And when some Grand Maester, centuries for now, finds that statue in Vaes Dothrak, _well_ … he’s pretty sure his ghost, if there’s an afterlife, will be delighted to see the man’s face as he finds out _what_ he has left written on the pedestal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand see you all soon with more modern times screaming and more explanations about the septa erotica subgenre of literature and more alternated f&b crack. y'all don't want to miss the septa erotica, I guarantee you. ;) if you want to come on [tumblr](https://janiedean.tumblr.com/) to discuss the madness you'll find a lot of people very invested in it xD


	3. interlude: modern westeros, 1000 AC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Gyldayn and the others realize what the statue's discovery means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI AGAIN GUYS I finished my christmas fics obligations so I'm back with the telenovela. ;) this is just a small introduction for... the next one, and after that I should have another chapter summing up the rest of the backstory and then it's Rebellion time ;) have fun!

“Wait,” Gyldayn says, suddenly realizing _what_ that inscription actually implies. “Wait. _Wait_. Oh sweet gods. _Sweet gods_. You _do_ know what this means, right?”

The entire room looks at him. The people on the other side of the screen also look like they fully understand what Gyldayn is aiming at.

Pycelle clears his throat. “I suppose… that we might have been too quick in discarding… _those_ specific findings a few years ago?”

Gyldayn nods, cold sweat starting to come down his forehead. “Yes,” he says, thinking of when a decade or so ago a few Citadel expeditions had found all over Westeros red and black… _artifacts_ that looked every inch like sex toys and that had therefore been explained by all of them as built for ritual purposes, because all the sources pointing at Westeros being somewhere _those_ kind of manufacts would be used were… well. _Those_ books. Which no one with a shred of scientific credibility would have taken seriously.

Except for —

Well. _She_ certainly wasn’t someone with scientific credibility, so none of them ever gave her any credit, but —

“Colleagues,” he sighs, “I think that it’s time we swallow our pride and we call _her_.”

Luwin stares at him through the computer screen. “You mean —”

“Of course he means Mordane,” Pycelle snaps. “She’s the greatest expert on… _those_ … things, after all.”

“Wait,” Shireen asks, “are we talking about _that_ Mordane? The one —”

“— Who is the greatest expert on Coryanne Wylde’s… body of work?” Sarella asks when Shireen can’t finish. Of course _she_ would. Gyldayn knows that she’s read _all_ of that body of work more than once, and not just for… scientific reasons. Never mind _Mordane’_ s body of work — the woman claims to be a descendant of Coryanne herself, and at this point Gyldayn might even be inclined to believe her. He always dismissed her as a hack and he certainly never read _her_ books beyond a few for, of course, _scientific interest_ … but that inscription proves _each single thing written in those books_. And not just Coryanne’s.

Oh, _no_.

“Yes,” he sighs. “And we might… have to admit that _all_ of those books might not have been entirely untruthful.”

“Oh,” Sam says. “You mean, all those… uhm… _racy_ books written by those septas back in the day —”

“I think so,” Gyldayn sighs. “I think I need to sit down.”

Cressen’s eyes narrow. “Good gods,” he says. “ _Those_ books. The ones they say they — oh.”

“Do _not_ go there,” Gyldayn says. “I think we need to contact Mordane first.”

Fact is: Gyldayn knows that _all_ those books have been used as a basis for those incredibly popular erotic movies shot by that actor Bael Blackfyre who has made an entire career out of looking _very_ similar to the Conqueror and shooting movies about his… supposed _conquest_ across all of the continent. If they were proven to be true —

_If they were proven to be true_ —

Gods save them all.

Then again, there is a price true scholars have to pay for knowledge.

He just… hadn’t thought _this_ would be his.


	4. the fall of the walls of Oldtown, or how Coryanne Wylde also conquered Westeros, sometime after 80 AC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the former Lady Coryanne Wylde, now Septa Coryanne, lays foundation for the most thriving erotic literary market in the continent and leaves A Legacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anyone who hasn't read _Fire and Blood_ : Lady Coryanne is most likely the author of the memories book hereby mentioned (A Caution for Young Girls) which canon has as the most popular erotica book in Westeros - you don't need to know the specifics of everything except that it was a lady who had a bastard son out of wedlock and was hired to bed Jaehaerys at some point so he wouldn't marry Alysanne and that apparently didn't work out. Fun story: me and the anons planning this had decided that septa erotica should be a thing BEFORE I read F&B, then I... read it... and found out it was basically canon so I went off with it. Have fun with the adventures of Lady Coryanne. Also, you'll have noticed I 100% changed the canon storyline and Maegor never was king but fuck that noise it's my crack and I do what I want. Also Aenys deserved better. ;)
> 
> Have fun with the history of septa erotica which WILL turn out to be important in modern times and see you next time with the Blackfyres and the lead-up to the Rebellion au. ;) and happy cracky holidays everyone XD

When former Lady Coryanne Wylde, newly named Septa Coryanne, starts talking to her new sisters, she is extremely pleased to find out that all the stories about Aegon the Conqueror’s time in Oldtown were certainly true. Oh, she _always_ knew that they were, it’s not as if the entire realm, thirty years after his heath, isn’t brimming with people with violet eyes or silver hair or both in each single kingdom, including Dorne which is technically _not_ the seventh kingdom yet.

And it’s not like people don’t remember how during the twenty-year peaceful reign of Aenys I, before he abdicated and passed his crown to his son Jaehaerys because _he was the most fit among his children_ , hadn’t spent a _lot_ of time with a whole lot of commoners in King’s Landing he called brothers without any qualm while his brother and his aunt Visenya never left Lys.

Coryanne, having spent a _long_ time in Lys, knows even too well that they never did because they sort of created an accidental cult around them and people worshipped her as some kind of goddess and she never cared to leave, and Maegor did the same and lived a long time being worshipped as her half-godlike son as well, but that’s beside the point.

Still, the rumors about Aegon having bedded most of the septas in Oldtown had never been confirmed or denied and of course if that happened it was kept well under wraps. That said, the amount of silver haired or purple-eyed (or both) children in Oldtown spoke to the fact that Aegon certainly had passed through here years ago, and after a couple of weeks during which she asks the right questions to the right people, Coryanne has full confirmation of her suspicions — of course, most of the girls that Aegon bedded back in the day are dead or very old, but they talked to their sisters, and their children, and their children’s children, and some of them aren’t in frail health.

Coryanne, who only took her vows because she was tired of traveling and wanted a quiet life with guaranteed good food daily and a roof over her head but has absolutely no intention of keeping her chastity vow not to leave all her life history go to waste — because she thinks that she has led an _interesting_ life and people could learn from it —, decides that maybe it’s time she gives them a little nudge.

After all, she isn’t _old_ yet. She has a lot of time to secure that her name won’t be forgotten, and she intends to do it in the way she knows best.

She starts writing _A Caution for Young Girls_ in secret, of course, starting with that time she lost her maidenhead to that beautiful stablehand — she doesn’t even have to exaggerate it. Fine, maybe she makes it a bit more raunchy than it was in real life, because _then_ , well, it was pretty short, he came minutes after they started and she didn’t feel much of anything until they fucked for the third time and he realized how to use his hands on her, and the boy wasn’t as well-endowed as she makes him to be, but no one is interested in hearing about _that_ kind of bedding.

Then she finds the most likely of her sisters to appreciate. She asks advice. She changes accordingly. By the time she’s gotten to that point Rogar Baratheon tried to hire her to fuck the soon-to-be-king to try and make sure he’d marry the girl _he_ wanted, she has some twenty girls giving her valuable and worthy feedback, and when one of the other younger septas shyly tells her that she might have touched herself for a _long_ time thinking about chapter three of her book, Coryanne smiles to herself.

Good.

Soon, with the septons not even aware of what’s happening under their noses, Coryanne makes sure that the women who _had_ laid with Aegon read her book.

When the first of them finds her to _talk_ , Coryanne is only too happy to let her in her room.

“That’s… interesting,” the woman says. “I was wondering — what if — I mean. When I laid with the Conqueror, that was… _good_. You know what I mean?”

“I do,” Coryanne replies, sweetly. “And well, if you’re wondering if you should write it down, too… why not? No one needs to know who you are, same as no one needs to know who _I_ am.”

She gets a sly smile in return.

By the time Coryanne is working on her time in Lys, adding as many details about Visenya’s cult as possible just to make it even more interesting, both that one septa and _all the others_ that were around when Aegon metaphorically conquered Oldtown are secretly working on _their_ book, too.

As Coryanne lovingly writes down of that time a guy who was _definitely_ a Targaryen descendant tied her up for half the entire day in that high-end Lyseni brothel that she honestly regretted leaving when it was shut down because the owner fled with all the money and left all of them penniless — which was admittedly one of the reasons she decided to choose a path in life that would guarantee her stable income, food and lodging —, she smiles down at the page, knowing that in the upper floor something similar is happening, and maybe in the one below, too.

There is no way that _she_ and the other women in this place shouldn’t have a legacy after all. If all of those High Septons and their immediate subordinates have names written in books for history to remember, then why shouldn’t _they_? After all, it’s not like Aegon the Conqueror ever had sex with those men who don’t conceive the concept of having fun and like to pretend that he was as chaste and pure as an unplucked spring flower except for his wives.

Coryanne goes back to penning the tenth chapter of her book, imagining the day she’s finally finished and all of Westeros finally reads it, picturing people being engrossed by her tales centuries from now. She smiles, very widely.

It’s the thought that will keep her through the next services, after all. Then again, she _could_ add a few scenes of her heroine and the Great Septon disrobing behind the altar of the Starry Sept the day before she takes her vows. _That_ never happened, even if some septons absolutely did try to touch her teats at a few points, not that she was in any way surprised — she knows how men are, especially the ones who pretend to be extremely pious. Which is why she holds Aegon in high esteem — at least _he_ wasn’t a fucking hypocrite who pretended to be above all others and thought women couldn’t have fun in bed.

Coryanne writes her book, dreaming of her legacy.

She doesn’t know how _right_ she is.

—

Soon after _A Caution for Young Girls_ starts making the rounds in the Oldtown brothels before spreading to King Landing’s and the rest of the realms, while everyone is busy wondering where _that_ came from and Coryanne smiles sweetly and denies her involvement to anyone who will ask if _she_ is perchance behind it, another smaller book, called _A Conquerer’s Siege_ , starts making those rounds as well.

The siege is, of course, of the Starry Sept. That one doesn’t gain much attention, as it’s not very long and very detailed… but a third, named _The Fall of the Walls of Oldtown_ , which is way longer and describes in detail a number of Aegon’s conquests in between the septas — not all, but _a good number_ , immediately becomes a sensation, second only to _A Caution for Young Girls_. When the Great Septon starts preaching about burning all the copies around Oldtown at one of his sermons, Coryanne _can_ see that old Septa Jocelyn, who was definitely around when Aegon was in the city, is smiling ever so slightly.

Good.

That’s _extremely_ good.

—

The Great Septon hopes in vain that those three books might be the end of it.

By the time Coryanne has written another three variations of _A Caution for Young Girls_ only for the pleasure of driving insane anyone trying to figure out which account was the most fictional — she does have a lot of free time in between prayers and good deeds, and she thinks about what to write in her books _during_ the prayers, anyway —, _more_ books appear in Oldtown’s brothels and taverns and inns.

Some of them even in highborn houses, snuck in by some septa who wished for her female pupils to read something less boring than their usual.

_The Dragon’s Pointy Scale_ is definitely a favorite of _that_ category, as it’s reasonably raunchy but not overtly much. _Dancing With The Dragon_ is not as popular, but most of the readers find it too boring and not written with enough passion, and so it never becomes as popular. _Burning in Dragonfire_ is definitely a _great_ favorite, as it’s not too long but is very, _very_ detailed.

By the time they’re followed by some fifteen others, in the five years following Coryanne’s arrival in Oldtown, the Septons aren’t even trying to find out who is the culprit any more. It’s impossible to prove that it’s any of them writing those books, and well, giving copies to the Silent Sisters to smuggle them out was Coryanne’s own stroke of genius, if she can say so: after all, no one dares question any of _them_ , and so the spreading of their books all over the realm ends up being as easy as breathing.

Coryanne knows for a fact that all of their books are extremely popular in Dorne — she’s been told by a friend from Lys who went there and still writes her letters pretending to be a cousin. That’s also good — it means that even if some idiotic septon manages to burn as many copies as it goes in the other six realms, there will be more to be found south.

When new girls are admitted in the Starry Sept, Coryanne is by common accord the one who shows them the ropes of just about everything.

_Including_ explaining them what gets written at night time by, at this point, at least a third of the septas in their group. Of course, Coryanne explains, they don’t have to do _anything_ of the kind, nor to read it if they feel uncomfortable. But if they do want to be part of their little writing group, well, they’re welcome. After all, Coryanne reasons, when the women who knew Aegon are gone and when _she_ is gone, the new girls will have to keep on doing what they have done all along.

Most of the girls, especially the noble ladies who have been forced into that life because they couldn’t be married or because their family’s needs eventually counted more than their happiness, or because they lost their maidenhead before their wedding, are more than happy to say that yes, they would _love_ being involved.

—

The Great Septon, at some point, complains to King Jaehaerys.

Jaehaerys merely shrugs and says that if people have fun with so little, who is he to ask for those books’ censoring? After all, it’s not like it’s a mystery that his grandfather _did_ have an impossible number of children to count. Seven Hells, he knew many of them by name because they were all great friends with his own father and they hung around court all the time. He doesn’t tell that Coryanne’s story about having been bought to seduce him was true, but then again no one quite believes _that_. He won’t be the one confirming the version of _A Caution for Young Girls_ in which Coryanne doesn’t bed him but explains him how to pleasure a girl best instead. Some things are better left mysterious, he decides.

Still, _he_ doesn’t intend to be remembered by history as the king who wasted time going after raunchy books that commoners enjoy instead of actually doing something useful like building roads that don’t turn into mud torrents every time it rains.

No book gets burned under the long reign of Jaehaerys I.

—

Coryanne Wylde dies a long time later, long enough to know that the five versions of her book she lovingly penned have been read even beyond the Wall, brought by a septa who worked for some Northern house who took care to take a _lot_ of copies with her when she left Oldtown.

She dies with a smile on her lips, knowing that other girls will take up her pen rather than her mantle after she’s gone.

She thinks of what her father would think of what she’s done with her life after he about disowned her for having disgraced him by giving herself to that stable boy, and she knows he’d loathe each of her single decisions.

It’s a thought that makes her smile even as she takes her last breaths, and if there is an afterlife, she will be delighted to see where the other girls bring what _she_ has started.

—

She can’t, of course, know that centuries later, esteemed scholars will have to admit that her books and her friends’ were not the fruit of flight of fancies, fantasies of bored septas who had given up the pleasures of the flesh too soon or just horrible calumnies at the expense of the royal family.

She also can’t know that King Aegon IV, centuries later, _will_ admit in public that _The Fall of the Walls of Oldtown_ was absolutely the book he’d bring to the grave with him if he had to choose one.

But she knows that she has a _legacy_.

And that’s plenty enough for her.

TBC

**Author's Note:**

> please do come discuss this madness on tumblr if you want to. XD


End file.
